


Talk to Me

by Stariceling



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Demonic Possession, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Swearing, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zack was okay with just admiring Jonathan from a distance, until Jonathan started talking to himself. Now the more he hears the more he wants to get close to Jonathan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hannah, one of the colorists on W2H, fleshed out Zack (ie. the guy from the bathroom scene) http://real-faker.tumblr.com/post/54160217823/the-story-behind-zack-phineas-melto
> 
> And then there was further talk of if he got worried about Jonathan's weird behavior and Sock did not take his intervention well at all. Still not sure I'm doing this guy justice, but here is a thing. I hope you will enjoy. I feel like there might be more but who knows if I will ever write it.

Jonathan crashed into him in the hall. It had to be deliberate, the way he jerked sideways away from nothing and smacked right into Zack. Zack’s body reacted before he could figure that out. Instinctively he caught Jonathan with one arm before he could fall. Jonathan’s hand grabbed for his shoulder, his weight pressed on Zack in the moment before he could reverse his momentum.

“‘Scuse me.”

For a moment Zack’s brain tripped over ragged hair, dull blue eyes and sullen lips in a face that kept somehow stealing his attention. Jonathan’s expression evened out into a neutral sort of frown, one that didn’t press his lips into a thin line. It was that one frown that planted the stupidest ideas in Zack’s head, making him imagine that Jonathan’s lips looked so sulky because his hadn’t come to introduce themselves properly. It made him feel like he was losing his mind.

And Jonathan had crashed into him on purpose. He pushed Jonathan away so that he stumbled again and had to steady himself on the wall.

“Jerk,” Jonathan muttered, turning his back without retaliating. Zack stared after him, and Jonathan had to know, because he added in an undertone, “Your hands are cold.”

That low growl settled somewhere near the pit of Zack’s stomach. What did that even mean? Was that his way of telling Zack to keep his hands to himself?

* * *

Jonathan was hot and Zack was not going to pretend he didn’t notice. He was comfortable with his sexuality, with swinging both ways, and hell yes would he like to swing over and tap that.

Too bad Jonathan was completely untouchable. He always had his head down in class, his headphones firmly over his ears during any break, his eyes forever half-lidded as he shut out as much of the world as possible. There was no mistaking the signal that he didn’t want to interact with anyone.

Zack liked to think of himself as a confident person. He knew he was cool. He didn’t get stage fright or performance anxiety. He didn’t have trouble talking to people, with one exception. Jonathan shut his confidence down like no one else.

At least he wasn’t the only one Jonathan shut down. Zack listened in on him dealing with an emo kid who tried to corner him at his locker.

“You already play guitar, how hard can it be to switch to bass?”

“Then you do it.” Jonathan’s tone was too flat to even register the words as a challenge.

The boy arguing with him was still offended. “I’m the lead guitar! I’m not doing that.”

“Then why should I?”

“You’re not even that good. We just need a shitty bass player, that’s it.”

“Sorry I’m not shitty enough for your band.”

Jonathan was apparently deaf to the expletives that followed that retort. The other boy actually waited for a minute to see if he was going to get a response before stalking off with a parting shot that he shouldn’t have even bothered. Zack could have told him that Jonathan would never budge for a petty insult like that.

Zack kept watching Jonathan digging through the mess in his locker. Of course the apathetic loner played guitar. Of course he didn’t play in a band. What else could Zack have expected.

He wondered how good Jonathan really was. If Jonathan had agreed to play, he would have even gone to watch. He was trapped just watching that sulky sexiness.

“Cut that out,” Jonathan suddenly hissed under his breath, making Zack freeze.

Jonathan was glaring at his locker, deliberately not looking at Zack. How had he even known Zack was staring? He turned, his eyes coming open for a moment as they met Zack’s, as he caught Zack still watching him, before narrowing into a half-lidded stare as if daring Zack to say what was going through his head.

“What’s your problem?” Zack snapped, trying to cover his own pounding heart. Ever since the bathroom incident a few days ago, Jonathan was acting like even a glance was an intrusion of privacy.

“Nothing.” Jonathan’s gaze slid away from his.

“Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“It’s not your problem.”

Zack watched Jonathan mope away into the crowd. He didn’t know why he was trying so hard to make Jonathan his problem. He was just making an idiot out of himself over a hot guy. One actual conversation would probably rid him of his crush for good. Zack wanted that conversation so much.

* * *

Changing for gym alongside Jonathan made Zack feel like he was straddling the line between Heaven and Hell. He wanted to look. He desperately wanted to look. He just didn’t want to get caught.

He glanced over, trying to steal a casual peek at Jonathan’s butt, and caught Jonathan staring at his own locker as he pulled on his gym shorts. There was a definite hint of red in his cheeks and his jaw was clenched tightly shut.

“Stop looking at everyone,” he grumbled through his teeth.

“I’m not,” Zack answered, before he could think. How creepy would it be to say he wasn’t looking at everyone, just Jonathan.

Jonathan frowned at him, an impassive challenge.

“Why, were you looking at someone?” He wanted to be teasing, flirt a little, somehow find a tone that implied he was totally cool with Jonathan looking at anything he was interested in. Instead it came out flat, rushed, his confession turned into an accusation.

Jonathan muttered, “No,” and quickly left the locker room.

He avoided Zack for the rest of the day, until Zack wanted to beat his head on a wall. Jonathan kept actually talking to him. How did he keep ruining everything so completely?

* * *

Zack barely got home from practice when he had to turn around and go out again. It wasn’t even worth going into the ‘you’re not supposed to let the cat out’ argument again. At this point he could only think his dad was trying to get rid of his mom’s cat without actually taking it to a shelter.

The passive-aggressive behavior just meant Zack was out wandering the neighborhood and harboring a growing feeling of dread over a fat old tabby cat with the street smarts of a box of rocks. After it had one ear mauled by a squirrel, Zack was honestly worried what would happen to that cat if it ran afoul of anything its own size.

He needn’t have worried. Instead of trouble the lost cat had apparently found a blond teen in a baggy grey hoodie, who had crouched down to pet it. Zack couldn’t believe what he had found. Jonathan, impassive and untouchable Jonathan, on his knees trying to pet an over-affectionate cat. He was stroking one-handed, trying to fish tags out of the overabundant neck fluff to read them.

“Hey.” Zack’s throat felt dry even before Jonathan glanced up at him.

Jonathan finally got a grip on one of the tags. “Melto. He’s your cat?”

“Yeah. Um, thanks.” Zack bent down to gather up the purring cat and realized too late he no longer had a hand free to help Jonathan up. He mourned the wasted opportunity.

Instead, Jonathan reached into his arms to keep petting. Asking, “What’s his name?” while Zack was still catching up to Jonathan apparently knowing _his_ last name.

“Squeaker.”

Squeaker saved him from having to explain by pushing into Jonathan’s hand and letting out a silent meow that ended in a little squeak.

Jonathan laughed, and if he was hot before this was like a sudden flare. Squeaker kept purring aggressively, headbutting Jonathan’s hand for attention, and Zack felt like doing the same.

“Do you want a cat?” Since some people did not understand the concept of ‘inside cat.’ Zack was too far off track to even mention this, brain tripping all over itself with the thought of asking if he could at least come visit, finally falling into wanting to tell Jonathan to just take him too.

“Nah. He’s sweet, though.” Jonathan took his hand back, and Zack was a little too sure the cat wasn’t the only one to squeak in protest. “Later.”

“See you.”

Zack was left with an armful of purring cat and a heart melted down into a heavy lump. He had almost wanted Jonathan not to have any redeeming qualities just so he could just get over this crush, but instead the more he saw of Jonathan, the more he wanted to see. Even with the weirdest stuff Jonathan said, he wanted to talk more. No matter what it took, he wanted to try until he got something right.

* * *

Jonathan wasn’t wearing his headphones, Zack noticed. The lunch line was moving slowly. He needed something to distract him, and idly watching Jonathan was a favorite distraction.

Actually, in the last couple weeks he had them on less and less. Normally he had those headphones clamped over his ears any time he had a chance, discouraging anyone from speaking to him. He wasn’t that much more talkative, but maybe this meant he wasn’t tuning out the world around him quite as much.

Jonathan kept looking at the empty seat next to him, muttering to himself. He lifted his eyes to meet Zack’s just as the shadow of a rare smile touched his face. He looked away quickly, but not quickly enough to hide it.

That smile was like lightning, striking beauty that seared into his retinas no matter how brief. Had Jonathan actually smiled _at_ him? His throat felt too tight to breathe.

He approached Jonathan’s empty table and slid into the seat he had been looking at. Jonathan wasn’t actively ignoring him as he did everyone else. He had to seize this chance, do something bold and decisive and let Jonathan know he was very interested.

“Hey.”

Jonathan glanced at him, mouth full of sandwich. It took him a moment to swallow and respond. “Hey.”

“Is this seat free?” Zack asked, even though he had already claimed it for himself.

The corner of Jonathan’s mouth twitched, the beginning of a half-smile, quickly smoothed out again. “You can have it. No one’s sitting there.”

Today was a miracle. That bit of a smile had actually been because of him. He didn’t know why, but it didn’t matter. He was still going to bask in the idea that he had made his gloomy prince almost smile.

Trying to buy himself time to think of something else to say, Zack shoveled a few bites of lunch into his mouth without tasting anything. He just needed a minute to psyche himself up. He wanted to make a good impression on Jonathan for once.

“So,” Zack started, but there didn’t seem to be anything else behind it. ‘Sorry,’ he was tempted to say, ‘your hotness has melted my brain.’ Except that would just make him sound like he couldn’t handle being around Jonathan, and maybe he couldn’t, but he desperately wanted the chance to handle Jonathan.

“So?” Jonathan prompted, deadpan. He gave Zack another glance.

Zack smiled. “So,” he started again. If Jonathan was willing to play along with him being so awkward, he was more than okay with that.

Before he could get in a decent follow-up, something bumped against his back. Zack looked over to find one of the half-backs taking the seat next to him. “Hey, Zack. We eating here today?”

There was no chance to correct that assumption. About half the football team had filled in around them. Zack knew the whole team clustered together right when the season started, but did they need to do it right this minute? And did they have to follow after him? He just wanted a little alone time to flirt with Jonathan. Was that so hard?

Someone shoved Jonathan so hard he nearly fell into Zack. The was no time to enjoy how close he was because he whipped his head around to level a silent glare, freezing Zack in place while he grabbed his lunch and left.

It took about five seconds for Jonathan’s abandoned seat to be filled. Noise and crowded conditions covered up Zack’s distress, but they couldn’t erase it.

It wasn’t his fault. He had just wanted to be close to Jonathan.

* * *

The moment he realized Jonathan wasn’t talking to him shook his world all over again.

Jonathan must have thought he was alone. He had ducked into the bathroom after a bad encounter with one of the seniors. Zack just wanted to make sure he was okay. He _wanted_ Jonathan to be okay, but he paused for a moment at the door, thinking about what he would do if Jonathan wasn’t okay.

He hesitated just a step inside. Jonathan was splashing water on his face, muttering to himself, and suddenly the words were more important than any fantasies of getting on Jonathan’s good side for once.

“Shut up about it. I said I don’t care.” With a low groan, head hanging, he ran his hands down his face. “I’m not going to kill myself. Just stop already.”

This wasn’t Jonathan teasing him, or being weird. This was something seriously wrong.

He didn’t miss the guilty flinch when Jonathan turned and saw him standing there. He didn’t know what to do, but when Jonathan tried to duck around him, he unthinkingly grabbed Jonathan’s arm.

“What is your problem?” Jonathan snapped.

“You’re my problem. What is up with you?” It wasn’t what he meant to say, how he meant to say it. He was freaking out, unable to work his brain around the idea that Jonathan might actually hurt himself.

“Nothing.” Jonathan shrugged off his hands and escaped before Zack could confront him properly.

* * *

After hearing that, he couldn’t just keep watching Jonathan. He needed to say something, do something, make sure his crush was okay and help somehow if he wasn’t. He was just waiting for the right moment.

He was still waiting when Jonathan suddenly turned on him and demanded, “What do you want?”

This was a conversation he should have been ready for, but the shock made him forget everything he meant to say.

“You’re being weird.” His mouth had apparently decided to get a head start while his brain was still sorting itself out.

“So?”

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“Trust me. You don’t want to know.” Jonathan turned to pick up his bag.

This time Zack couldn’t just let him go. He grabbed Jonathan’s arm. “Just tell me.”

Jonathan jerked away from his hand and Zack grabbed by reflex, forcing Jonathan back when he tried to get free. He never intended to slam Jonathan’s back into the locker. He just didn’t want to see him leave when they were finally talking.

The back of Jonathan’s head smacked into the locker and he clutched it, swearing between his teeth while Zack stood by, useless.

“You okay?”

“M’fine. You can leave me alone now.”

Zack knew he needed to do that, but was afraid to let go. “I’ve heard some of the shit you say when you think no one’s listening. What is going on with you?”

“It’s none of your business.” Jonathan had his head twisted to one side, gaze fixed. Zack was afraid he would find Jonathan staring at nothing again when he followed that gaze, but instead he found they were attracting attention for making a scene.

“Want to talk about this some time when it’s just us?” He didn’t want to embarrass Jonathan in public. He just wanted Jonathan to be okay. “We can talk about this later.”

“Or never.”

“Hey, something is obviously wrong. I’m just looking out for you, okay?” He released Jonathan. He wanted to say something stupid and impulsive, like ‘I love you and I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself,’ but he was afraid to upset Jonathan more. “Sorry if I pissed you off.”

“S’fine. I don’t want to miss my bus.” Jonathan ducked around him, and Zack let him go.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Zack promised. He smiled when Jonathan glanced back at him, feeling he might crack under the strain. He was going to write a script if he had to, to get across that he cared about Jonathan and he wanted to help without finding some new way to alienate him.

* * *

It was only their second game of the season and Zack was a wreck. Physically he was in great shape. Throwing himself into practice was the one thing he could do that felt right lately. At least he could push his body to exhaustion until the endorphins washed away all of his frustration.

Mentally, however, he could barely pull himself together long enough to remember the plays. Jonathan had been avoiding him for the last week. He was suddenly sticking to more crowded hallways when Zack knew he hated being packed in with other people. More than once he had changed direction or wedged himself into a crowd when he saw Zack coming. Zack didn’t want to resort to hauling him into an empty classroom to talk, but there was a sense of wrong itching between his shoulder blades that told him to act before it was too late.

He had finally resorted to cornering Jonathan long enough to shove a ticket into his hand and tell him to come to the game. Somewhere in there had been a promise of free pizza, that Jonathan could talk to him, that Jonathan didn’t have to talk to him, that he was on Jonathan’s side. He didn’t know how much had gotten through.

Of course Jonathan hadn’t come. Zack kept scanning the stands, torturing himself. He was sure Jonathan hated him by now. Zack knew there was no way Jonathan would come, right up until the third quarter when he spotted a familiar figure in washed-out gray. Jonathan was standing by the opposing team’s stands, almost invisible.

Everything flipped around with Jonathan standing there. Zack had never had such diamond-hard focus on a game in his life. He’d never had someone he needed to impress like this.

For what it was worth, Jonathan stayed to watch them pull ahead for a decisive victory. He was still there at the end of the game. Zack almost ran to him right then, still in his uniform and pads and drenched in sweat.

Instead he cast longing looks, silently begging that Jonathan would wait five minutes for him to change. He was barely even aware of the rest of the team talking and laughing, just getting ready as fast as possible, saying he couldn’t make it to the after party and letting them go with whatever reason. Someone thumped him on the back, laughing at his excited rush. ‘Dang, Zack. This girl of yours must be fine.’

Most importantly, he was still waiting when Zack made it back out to him. Jonathan was leaning against the bleachers, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. He had his hood up, shadowing his face. Zack couldn’t remember him ever putting it up before, but he didn’t care enough to dwell on it.

“Hey. You came.” That was all that mattered. “Even if you did hang out on the other team’s side. Were you hoping we’d lose?”

“There are sides?” There was something different about Jonathan’s voice. His tone was lighter. His inflection didn’t drag the way it normally did.

Zack didn’t pay much attention to the difference. He just had to laugh. Jonathan was so cute he couldn’t help it. “Never mind. You’re good,” he said quickly, not wanting Jonathan to take offense and change his mind. “I’m just glad you made it.”

“You said something about pizza.”

“Yeah. The whole team always goes out after. Or I could treat you. Just you and me.”

“That sounds good. Just you and me.”

Zack’s heart started pounding double-time. He had to firmly remind himself this was not a date. He was going out with Jonathan to talk because he was concerned about Jonathan’s well-being. He was going to keep telling himself it was not a date until his stupid endorphin-high brain came down from cloud nine. He was just going to eat pizza with Jonathan, together, alone. No matter how he framed that it was like he’d died and gone to Heaven.

“What about Big Rico’s?” Zack was only thinking about being on the opposite end of town from his team tonight. He loved those guys, but he wouldn’t let them accidentally shove Jonathan away from him again. It seemed like a good enough choice; way too much cheese, bad lighting, good chance for a secluded booth. . .

An impish smile touched Jonathan’s lips. “Perfect.”

It was easily within walking distance. They cut across the field, away from the crowds leaving after the game.

“So, what made you decide to come?”

“You weren’t going to leave me alone until I did.”

“I’ve been worried about you.” Zack glanced sideways at Jonathan. He looked comfortable, at least. His slouching posture had straightened. His jaw had relaxed its wary tension to allow a faint smile. It was different from the smiles Zack had caught before; the calm, warm one that came when he actually relaxed, and the delightful grin that could be startled out of him when he laughed. This was something else, something that curled his lips and cut into his cheeks in a way Zack didn’t recognize.

Zack didn’t think he could completely blame his nerves on that unfamiliar expression. He was already tense with excitement just because he was going out with Jonathan. But thinking that Jonathan was a little different right now was almost more exciting. This was his chance to experience a new side of Jonathan that came out at night, outside school.

“Why would you be worried about me?”

It took Zack half a block of silence to figure out how to answer without stumbling all over himself. “You’ve been acting weird. It’s hard not to notice. I just want to help out, y’know?” He rubbed the back of his neck, remembering his disastrous attempt to corner Jonathan before. “Sorry for stressing you out on top of everything else.”

“I’m kind of glad. You’re giving me a chance to. . . vent. I haven’t had that in a while.”

“Yeah? Well you can vent as much as you need with me.” He wanted to rub Jonathan’s back, to put an arm around him, to show that he cared, but he didn’t want to scare Jonathan away again. He settled for bumping their shoulders together in a faux-macho show of affection.

Jonathan flinched away for an instant. Zack was about to stop and explain that no, it’s okay, that means I like you, but before he could fall all over himself Jonathan’s elbow gave his a deliberate nudge back. After that Zack could only grin. They were finally bonding.

They were almost there when Jonathan tilted his head slightly, indicating a narrow alley. “Here. It’s a short cut.”

Zack didn’t see how it was going to save them more than a minute compared to going to the end of the block and around the corner, but he shrugged and followed. He was too high on Jonathan’s presence to care.

When they were halfway down the alley Jonathan’s hand landed on his arm, dragging him to a stop. He lifted his head so that Zack could finally get a good look at his face under the hood. His teeth were bared, his mouth stretched in an unnatural grin. His eyes were bright, almost glowing in the dark with a vivid green. Zack was sure Jonathan’s eyes had never been green.

“I won’t let you hurt Jonathan.”

“What? I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Jonathan eased his other hand out of his hoodie pocket at last, bringing a knife with it.

“What the hell?” Zack stepped back, pulling away from Jonathan’s hand. “Look, I like you, but that is not even close to being funny.”

The only answer was Jonathan lunging at him. Zack twisted out of the way, earning a shallow gash when he threw up an arm to shield himself. He shoved Jonathan away from himself before he could be slashed again.

Jonathan stumbled over a discarded bottle and almost fell. He took a moment to steady himself. Zack knew he could overpower Jonathan, tackle him against the wall, wrench the knife from his hand and demand an explanation. He almost followed through. Instead all he could remember was shoving Jonathan into the lockers so hard he hit his head. All he could think about was hurting Jonathan if he fought back.

Zack raised his hands placatingly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never want to hurt you.”

Jonathan went for him again, slashing new stinging wounds across his arms as he tried to defend himself. He shied back from the attack, felt his back hit the wall, and realized too late that if he wanted to escape now he was going to have to force Jonathan away to do it.

“Jonathan, calm down. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Because I won’t let you,” he cried. “No one can hurt Jonathan but me!”

That was exactly what Zack had been dreading. He took advantage of Jonathan’s pause to grab him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. “No! Don’t you dare hurt yourself!”

He managed to forget about the knife until it slammed into his chest. All in one instant, everything sharpened down to pain so intense it forced him back against the wall. Zack tried to suck in a breath and that only deepened the agony.

“He’s mine.” Jonathan leaned closer. In another context this might have been what he wanted; Jonathan completely focused on him, staring into his eyes with cheeks flushed. “I’ll kill him if I want to.” An unfamiliar smile cracked open the face of his beloved’s green-eyed doppelganger. Something broke inside Zack, mental clarity shattering into shards, because this could not be his Jonathan.

Zack grabbed fistfuls of Jonathan’s shirt and hauled him close to shout in his face. “Don’t you _ever_ hurt Jonathan! What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you ever want to hurt Jonathan!?” Shouting was a very bad idea. Shouting was agony, but not saying it was worse. “He only deserves people who’ll love him. You don’t deserve to be anywhere near him!”

“Shut up.” The knife dragged from his chest and stabbed in again before he could get his arms up to defend himself. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Each stab bled into the last, until Jonathan threw his whole body into one final blow, until he went still, with only the knife holding them apart.

Jonathan was so close Zack could have kissed him goodbye. The thought rolled through his head and slipped away without the catalyst to act on it. No more or less important than a thousand other impulses never acted on.

The knife slid free from his chest as Jonathan stepped back, and with nothing to hold him up Zack crumpled like a broken puppet. He was sure he could still feel the knife, a solid wedge of pain driving into his chest with each breath, even though it was dangling in front of his nose. He pressed one hand over the wounds, trying to hold himself together.

Jonathan let out a creepy stutter of a laugh, suddenly cut off with a choking sound. The knife slipped from his hand. Zack wasted a dazed look on the discarded blade before returning his gaze to Jonathan’s knees, watching him stumble backwards a few shaky steps.

“No,” Jonathan gasped, his voice thick and hoarse. “No, no, no, _what did you do?_ ”

Zack tried to answer, but he only got as far as sucking in a pained breath, his throat seizing around the first syllable of Jonathan’s name. Before he could try again Jonathan had scrambled forward, falling to his knees and reaching for Zack with shaking hands.

“You’re alive? You’re still. . . Zack, you’re alive right? Say something.”

Zack didn’t have the strength left to flinch. The hood had fallen back and he could see Jonathan’s face at last. . . This could have been a different person from the Jonathan who had stabbed him. His hands shook as he gripped Zack’s shoulders, his expression raw and open. His eyes were still wide, but that manic light had disappeared, leaving them a dull, ordinary blue.

“You have beautiful eyes.”

For a moment Jonathan just stared at him, mouth stretched into a wide frown of disbelief. Zack smiled, because it was such a perfectly Jonathan expression. Like coming back from a nightmare. Even the pain felt more distant.

“Hey!” Jonathan half-rose, turning towards the mouth of the alley. “Help! Is anyone- shit,” he hissed, darting another look back at Zack.

At this point having some of the pain bleed out was probably a bad sign, but it was too much of a relief to care. Jonathan was going through his own pockets with a hissed chant of profanity. He turned to yell again for someone to help, his voice pitching and breaking, and again there was no response.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he turned back again and reached for Zack. He slipped his hands into Zack’s jean pockets. Their faces were close again, Jonathan’s gaze lowered to avoid eye contact.

“Shitfuck,” Jonathan hissed. “You don’t have a phone either?”

Zack moved automatically to reach for the phone in his jacket pocket. Jonathan’s hand chased his, wrapped around it briefly before stealing his phone and drawing back again. It finally occurred to Zack to wonder how much blood he was losing. He felt lightheaded and he was reasonably sure it wasn’t just because of Jonathan’s hands feeling around in his pockets.

He watched Jonathan fumble with his phone, blood making his fingers slip as he dialed.

“I need an ambulance,” Jonathan was saying into the phone. “My friend’s bleeding everywhere, and-” Zack’s brain stuck temporarily on ‘friend.’ If this was what it took to be elevated to ‘friend’ he didn’t think he would survive confessing his love to Jonathan.

“I don’t know where we are!” Jonathan burst out. “I don’t know! Don’t you track phones or something? I can’t leave him, I- Zack where the fuck are- fuck. I don’t know! I think he’s awake but he won’t answer me.”

Jonathan had said they were friends, that he wouldn’t leave. Zack tried to get his brain and throat to cooperate long enough to mumble, “‘S third.”

“Third what? Third street?” Jonathan glanced back again. “We’re in the alley across from. . . fuck. It’s a Starbucks. That doesn’t help.”

For some reason Jonathan was breathing hard, as if he could make up for Zack trying to breathe as shallowly as possible in hopes that would somehow hurt less. He could only focus on Jonathan, on wide, blue eyes fixed on his.

“I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do?”

Zack could feel himself relaxing. He couldn’t stop it, even with Jonathan so close. He wanted to stay awake for this, but it was harder than he expected.

“ _No_.” Jonathan dropped his phone, hands moving to cover Zack’s wounds when his own slipped away and fell limp. “Please hang on just a little longer. I’m so sorry. Just don’t die.”

His hands pressed hard enough for a new wave of agony to stab through Zack, making him gasp and forcing his mind back out of the fog he had been slipping into. It hurt, but Jonathan’s hands were warm and bracing. They were the only thing holding him together at that moment.

He was aware of the slick of blood down his chest. He latched on to the vision of Jonathan’s face, so close he caught himself on the cracks in Jonathan’s lips. Jonathan’s breath shuddered past his ear, reminding him again to breathe.

Jonathan’s hands were shaking, and somehow Zack lay his own hand over Jonathan’s. He was sure that the moment Jonathan let go he would be lost.

When Jonathan turned to yell again for help he clutched at those anchoring hands in fear. He made his throat and tongue move far enough to manage Jonathan’s name, gratified to see him snap back around and bend close again. “Help?”

“I’m _trying_.” Jonathan’s voice tickled warmth on his cheek and ear. “Just hang on.”

Zack managed what he hoped was a smile and said, “Kiss it better.” Or at least he tried. The words stuck and strangled in his throat. He needed to say something else. Those were the worst last words, especially because Jonathan wasn’t actually doing it.

“You hear that, right? That means you have to be okay. Just hang on for a few minutes, okay? Zack? Come on, Zack, don’t. . .”

Zack had a sensation of being pulled backwards out of his own body. There was a tunnel stretching between himself and his senses, and he didn’t know how to get back to where Jonathan was. Jonathan called his name a few more times, and he greedily held on to that voice. At least until Jonathan’s tone switched and he started yelling. “Shut up! I’m not leaving him to die now! Just shut up, already!”

There was no answer apart from Jonathan’s own harsh breathing, but he acted as if there had been. “So what, kill myself or you’ll use me to hurt people? Is that your game now!? Go away! I never want to see you again!”

Something made of blurry bright colors bled into his vision where there had been nothing before. Something stealing Jonathan’s attention in the moment when Zack needed him most.

Roaring in Zack’s ears swallowed up Jonathan’s voice, even as he tried to cling to the words. There was something important here. Jonathan was important. He didn’t want Jonathan hurt. That was why he was in this mess in the first place.

And then he couldn’t feel Jonathan’s hands on him anymore. Without that warmth to cling to, Zack fell backwards into the dark.


End file.
